The Naughty Step
by Kirrithian
Summary: After misadventure in Victorian London the Doctor and Strax find themselves on the naughty step of Paternoster Row, waiting and wondering when the girls will forgive them.
1. Chapter 1

**The Naughty Step**

Chapter One.

The Doctor and Strax sat side by side on the doorstep in front of the bright blue door of thirteen Paternoster Row. Two pristine top hats side by side, Strax's slowly sliding off his brown domed head, resting momentarily against one of his stumpy ears, before it was pushed back, to balance once more on the summit of the Sontarans head.

"Sir,"

"I'm not talking to you." The Doctor cut across, continuing to lean forward and glare at an arbitrary brick across the street.

"Neither are the women folk, and communication is essential for any unit to work efficiently, so it is imperative you resume communications with me immediately."

"Why?"

"I might have something useful to say."

"That'll be the day. This is all your fault you know."

"I was only following your orders, sir."

"I told you to look after her, not to..." the Doctor sighed, settling down again, "and now they've kicked us out, nowhere to go."

"Don't you still have the Tardis?" Strax pointed out, the Doctors mouth closing in realisation.

"I'm going for a walk."

"Very good sir. Attack from within- they'll never see it coming!"

"No Strax, just..." the Doctor shook his head "stay here."

The surrounding array of bells chimed one hour, then the next as Strax continued his vigil on the step, only perking up as the wheezing groaning of the Tardis echoed from inside. Tucking his hat under his arm he stood to attention expectantly outside, unperturbed by the rain that began to fall.

"Strax." Strax jumped and spun around, the Doctor automatically ducking the flying hat, which bowled across the lane, narrowly missing the wheels of a carriage as it went past.

"Do not sneak up on me like that sir, you are fortunate I was not armed."

"Fortunate? That's something I can thank the girls for." The Doctor concluded, Strax mouthing 'girls' behind him and muttering something about grenades. "Strax, I need your help to find the Tardis- she took off without me and I don't know where she is."

"No need sir. She landed inside about ten minutes ago."

The Doctor stopped his pacing and looked between Strax's pointing finger and the house, his gaze steely, before he returned to the doorstep and sat down once more. Strax joined him, and still in silence, the Doctor returned his now mud spattered top hat to Strax.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

The Doctor and Strax sat side by side on the doorstep in front of the bright blue door of thirteen Paternoster Row. Two top hats side by side, one spattered with brown mud, matching the colour of the domed head it adorned. It had barely migrated an inch to freedom before Strax planted it back on the summit of his head.

"What's our plan of attack sir?" Strax leant towards the Doctor, speaking in hushed tones. "There is a structural weakness in the south west corner that we could exploit with only a couple of tons of gunpowder to gain entry to the house, from there we could..."

"Strax, we are not attacking the house!"

"Are we not besieging them at this very moment, cutting off their only means of supply and escape?"

"Strax, they have the Tardis."

"A clear and distinct tactical disadvantage to ourselves- we must prioritise re-securing it as soon as we can. In the meantime I suggest we continue to hold their supply lines, starve them out."

"Strax, they've been using the back door." The Doctor kicked at the cobbles. "Anyway, we're not besieging them, they're our friends. That's not the plan."

"Well, what is the plan sir?"

"Wait. Until they're ready to talk to us."

"And negotiate their full and unconditional surrender!"

"More of a peace treaty."

"How long do we need to wait?"

"Females, Strax. You can never be sure."

"So they could be ready to talk to us now? What are we waiting for?" Strax stood up, straightening out his shirt and tie, sweeping his top hat off and brushing himself down, the Doctor quickly joining him, placing a hand on Strax's shoulder as he reached towards the doorknocker.

"Let me do the talking." The Doctor tweaked his bow tie and held his hat to his chest as Strax rapped on the door. After a few moments it opened, and shortly slammed shut again.

"Well that went well." Strax declared. The Doctor held up his flattened hat frowning at it before popping it back into shape and placing it on his head, sweeping around in indignation and promptly sitting back down on the step again.

Strax joined him.

"We could try the back door." He suggested, and the Doctor buried his head in his hands.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three.

The Doctor and Strax sat side by side on the doorstep in front of the bright blue door of thirteen Paternoster Row. Two battered top hats side by side, one spattered with mud, in its flattened state sitting nicely on the matching brown domed head it adorned.

Strax looked to the Doctor, who continued to avoid making eye contact, his hunched demeanour now matching that of his hat. He cast around for a topic of conversation to break the gloomy silence, the first few drops of rain giving him the perfect cue.

"Local weather systems are particularly unfavourable for this point in the planetary cycle." He declared.

"It's a clear night." Grumbled the Doctor, pulling his coat up around himself as Strax looked upwards to see the stars in a cloudless sky framing the bucket being emptied out the window above them, covering them in a deluge of slightly warm soapy water. The window slammed, the sound reverberating through the glass panes, leaving the two below with no illusions to the feelings of the occupants, a fact emphasised when the Doctors hat collapsed, folding like a sodden slinky into his lap.

"Sir,"

"They just need more time." The Doctor defiantly returned his hat to its position, where it deflated, sending trickles of water down his face.

The next morning, as the sunlight rose above the rooftops, finally making its way into the street, starting work on evaporating the puddle that had appeared on the cobbles below number thirteen, where the two still sat on the doorstep. In the silence they heard the click of the window, and in a simultaneous, well practised move they each unfurled an umbrella with a wompf, deflecting the next bucketful away.


End file.
